


The Hunt

by sparrow30



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: But Is He Really?, Jaskier is in trouble, M/M, Mild Peril, and Jaskier being extra™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrow30/pseuds/sparrow30
Summary: He has no idea where the corridor leads, or even what direction he should be heading in. He’s long since lost track of where the castle’s exits are; all that matters now is that he keeps moving.A harrowing clang of metal on metal sounds from the far end of the hallway he’s just run down, making him jump in tense surprise. He winces as the grating noise reverberates around his skull, shoulders hunching up towards his ears as if to try and protect them from the gods-awful sound.Right, keep moving.Jaskier needs to escape the castle he's found himself trapped in. If that's not bad enough, there's something following him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 114
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #014





	The Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Jaskier-is-in-peril fic with a bit of a twist! I don't want to spoil it for people who want the surprise (although to be honest it's probably fairly obvious either way), but if you want more details before jumping in check out the end notes!

Jaskier’s laboured breathing echoes loud in his ears as he careens round yet another corner, his feet almost slipping out from underneath him as his smart boots fail to gain purchase on the dust-covered floor. He scrabbles desperately at the wall to keep his balance, hauling himself upright at the very last second, then has to pause for a moment to catch his breath.

Panting heavily, he squints against the darkness. A long corridor looms menacingly ahead of him, with only the light of the moon squeezing through the castle’s slitted loopholes to guide his way. He has no idea where the corridor leads, or even what direction he should be heading in. He’s long since lost track of where the castle’s exits are; all that matters now is that he keeps moving.

A harrowing clang of metal on metal sounds from the far end of the hallway he’s just run down, making him jump in tense surprise. He winces as the grating noise reverberates around his skull, shoulders hunching up towards his ears as if to try and protect them from the gods-awful sound. 

Right, keep moving. 

He pushes away from the wall and starts to creep down the corridor, trying his damndest to keep his footsteps light and silent. It’s easier said than done; he’s always been the type to loudly announce his presence rather than try and keep it hidden. Slowly, too slowly, he slinks his way along the nearest wall, keeping to the shadows as much as he can.

Not that it will help much, he thinks to himself ruefully as he shimmies around yet another cascading ray of moonlight. The predator stalking him can see just as well in the dark as during the day.

Said predator is swiftly gaining on him, it seems. His heavy footsteps are getting closer, so close they seem to shake the very ground Jaskier stands on (although perhaps that’s just his imagination running away with him). Another shriek of metal dragging along stone walls echoes from just around the corner behind him, and Jaskier knows it’s only a matter of time before he’s caught.

What will be the best way to play it, he wonders. Should he put up a fight? Make sure that if he’s going down he goes down swinging? Or should he play dead like his father once told him to do if he ever encountered menacing creatures in the woods surrounding their home? Although come to think of it, that advice might have only been applicable for the grizzlies that had been spotted going into hibernation around that time. In all honesty he hadn’t been paying much attention, too interested in his newest composition and confident that he’d never find himself in such a situation in the first place.

His father is probably turning in his grave watching him now. For more reasons than just this, really, but that’s besides the point.

A low growl reverberates right next to his ear, and Jaskier has just about enough time to acknowledge that he’s been bested before his legs are swept out from underneath him and he hits the ground with a shuddering thud.

He twists desperately, kicking his legs to try and keep them free, and lets out an ear-piercing scream as his attacker pounces…

...and immediately reels backwards with a hollow grunt of pain. 

“Gods above, Jask,” Geralt growls, clutching a bone-white hand to the side of his head. “Did you really have to scream  _ right _ in my ear? You know everything is more intense like this.”

“Sorry, my love, sorry!” Jaskier scrambles up on his knees to cup Gerat’s black-veined face with both hands, kissing apologies to each of his cheeks in turn. “You just caught me by surprise.”

“I thought that was the point of all this?” Geralt grouses, shaking his head as if to rid it of a particularly stubborn cobweb. His eyes are entirely black, not a hint of white to be seen, and they reflect the dim moonlight back at Jaskier in a thousand beautiful directions.

“It was, it  _ is _ ,” Jaskier promises, peppering kisses across Geralt’s face and down his neck as he talks. “I’ll make sure to scream quieter next time, I promise!”

“Hmmm,” Geralt hums - which Jaskier deciphers as begrudging acceptance - then tilts his head to the side consideringly. “You smell strange.”

“Um...okay?” Jaskier lifts an arm to tentatively sniff himself. Yes, he’s been working up quite a sweat running here, there, and everywhere, and yes he’s not wearing any of his usual scented oils out of deference to Geralt’s currently heightened senses, but he’d thought Geralt a fan of his natural scent. He’d certainly never complained about it before.

“You smell like you’re afraid, but you also smell happy,” Geralt wrinkles his nose in a way that Jaskier thinks is frankly adorable. “It’s confusing.”

“That, my love, is called the thrill of the chase,” Jaskier says with a wide grin. “Can you really blame me when I’m being pursued by someone as devilishly handsome as you? You’re enough to make any self-respecting thrillseeker thoroughly weak at the knees.”

Geralt scoffs, “You must be the only person in the world who would think to call a Witcher hopped up on battle potions  _ devilishly handsome _ ”.

“Oh shush, you love this game as much as I do,” Jaskier replies, slapping Geralt’s shoulder gently before standing up and brushing dust off his doublet. “Alright, give me a hundred count headstart and then you can come and ravage me properly.” He holds up his hand in solemn promise. “No screaming this time, I swear.”

“Hmm,” Geralt growls, giving Jaskier a grin that is all fearsome teeth, and Jaskier feels a familiar shudder of anticipation run down his spine at the promise of what’s about to come. “Tick tock, little bard.”

  
Jaskier smiles a slightly maniacal grin in return, then spins on his heel and takes off down the corridor at a dead sprint. He can feel the suspense and anticipation start to bubble excitedly in his chest, filling him with a profound sense of joy and wonder. 

The final act of the hunt has begun, and now it’s only a matter of time before he’ll get to show his darling Witcher just how much he appreciates him, in  _ every _ form.

**Author's Note:**

> Jaskier and Geralt engage in fun and fully consensual roleplay where Jaskier 'fails' to escape the clutches of Geralt in his monster-fighting form. Everyone has a wonderful time and the resulting sex is bound to be excellent!


End file.
